Never Myself
by TheJetsetter
Summary: There was a time where I used to like myself, where I saw a beautiful, smart girl that was capable of turning heads without trying. Now all I see is rejection.


There was a time in my life when I wasn't so glamorous.

I know! Gasp all you want. Oh my goodness! Natalie Kabra used to be a bad dresser!

That's not true though: I just used to dress differently. People's styles are an expression of who they are. Think about it; Amy Cahill dresses badly because one: She has no money, and two: She is very shy and insecure about herself. It's a philosophy of mine, people's dress styles. I can judge a person from a mile away just based on their clothing.

I used to like my dress style a lot more.

It was a Thursday afternoon at school, just before lunch. I smoothed out my hair and glanced in the little mirror that stuck inside my locker door. I wore my hair back in a gray headband, stick straight and glossy. My cashmere sweater was designer and over a white collared shirt. My short pleated, plaid skirt was freshly pressed that morning and my black heels were free of dirt. A glittering diamond heart necklace hung above my actual heart. It was one of the first outfits I ever carefully selected, and I felt confident in myself. I was a smart, beautiful girl that didn t need to overdress to catch people's eyes. I could dress simply and still turn heads.

I closed the locker door and trotted away, looking over my shoulder to view a poster hanging on the wall:

**Don't forget to buy your tickets to the Morningwood Academy Spring Formal!**

I learned then that one moment can impact who you are. Most people think that I would have learned that when my brother and I turned from our mother, but actually, I learned the true meaning of that saying years ago, after that, it was all just stupid decisions.

Ian's words from that morning echoed in my head. I discussed my plan with him that morning over croissants and coffee.

"I'm going to ask Nate to the formal, Ian! I don t care what you say. after all, who would turn me down?" I smiled confidently at my brother.

He took a long drink of Brazil's finest before answering me. "I know that nobody in their right mind would turn down a Kabra, but listen to me, Nat. People make odd decisions just based on appearance and status. I know we're rich and smart and devastatingly gorgeous, but we are also new to the area. Our parents are distinguished, not us. We need to build a reputation, and asking one of Morningwood's most popular boys to a dance can break you. People never ask people of other statuses, and we are of a lower status. You could get turned down, and I don't want to see that happen to my sister. It does horrible things to a person."

"Thank you for that pep talk, Dr. Lil!"

"I do believe it's Dr. Phil."

"I don't care! I like him Ian, and I think Nate likes me! Just the other day, he asked me for a pencil and smiled at me. That could be a clue!"

Ian looked at me for a minute and sighed." Alright, I know a Kabra never gives up in an argument. Just promise you won't be upset if he turns you down."

"Alright Ian, but I know he won't."

I was so stupid then. I should have listened to Ian. Maybe, just maybe, everything wouldn t be so different now.

Nate was standing in the hallway at his locker, shuffling through a few papers. His blond hair curled like an Abercrombie model, he wore loafers, tan trousers, and a blue sweater that matched his eyes. It was the type of outfit somebody wore when they were completely confident in them self. I walked up to him casually and smiled my most charming smile.

"Hello, Nate!"

He glimpsed at me from over his papers," Oh, hey Natalie, what s going on?"

"Nothing much, just headed to Algebra." I rolled my eyes at the dreaded A word.

Nate chucked." Mr. Higgins definitely isn t the most sane teacher ever."

" Well that's for sure, last week he ate chalk mistaking it for chips!"

We laughed for a moment and my stomach flipped. This was it. I was going to ask him!

"Hey, Nate?" I began. I heard the bell chime for class and student began to drift in.

"Yeah?"

"I was wondering if maybe you wanted to go to the formal with me?"

For one agonizing second, I thought his lips were curving into a smile and he would say, "Why yes! I would love to!"

But they weren't, and he didn't.

He said, "Im sorry, Natalie, but I m going with Melody. From French class?"

I had French class next class. I knew the next hour would be spent staring enviously at the girl.

"Right, thanks anyway, I ve got to go." I said hurriedly.

"Right. Later, Natalie!"

I walked away with my French book held so close to my chest my heart necklace left an imprint. I could hear Nate and his friends behind me: "New girl asked me. Look at her sweater. As if! Melody is way hotter."

I sat in the back of French and fought hard to pay attention. I repeated word without even thinking. "Mon frere, j'adore."

Melody's cell phone ringed and she read a message then glanced at me, glossy lips pressed in a smirk. She wore a glittering gold top, low cut and attention grabbing, and a short skirt I know was Gucci. Her heels, Louboutins, had a telltale red sole. All her clothes were obvious and loud. They said, I m rich, notice me because of it!

I was richer than her. I was smarter, prettier, classier, and I told myself that. But all I could think was: He chose her. By instinct, I wanted to be like _her_. I wanted everyone to stop and glare enviously. I wanted boys to fall at my feet. I never wanted to feel this rejection ever again.

That afternoon, I was picked up by the chauffeur as usual and driven home. Ian sat in the waiting room, polo gear in hand, ready to be taken to practice. I walked by him and looked into his eyes. He looked at me with a sort of knowing in his amber eyes. I remembered what he said: People make odd decisions based on appearance and status.

God, I could never judge Amy Cahill so harshly ever again.

I went into my closet and looked at the preppy, good quality, but yet simple clothing. I pulled down every bland sweater, every black skirt, every pair of simple pumps and threw them into a clear plastic bin. My closet was empty beside the jewelry. After all, who could disagree with diamonds?

I pulled out my laptop and automatically clicked the instant delivery button. I scrolled through pages of designer clothing and ordered the most eye-catching, luxurious, expensive things I could find. No more rejection.

Bickerduff carried in my packages later that night and hung up my new wardrobe.

The next morning I strutted instead of trotting down the halls.

My hair was down and curled, seductively covering one eye. I wore a lavender strapless top and a silky light pink skirt that fell mid thigh. My feet were adorned by silver heels and diamonds glittered around my throat and in my ears.

I hated it. I hated how I took the time yesterday to choose an outfit I loved and represented myself and was turned away. Now here I was in this out of character outfit and getting more attention than the Queen at happened next was only salt on the walked up to me.

"Hey Natalie?"

"Yes?" I said in a flat monotone.

"I was wondering if maybe you wanted to go to formal with me? "His smile, instead of handsome, looked desperate, and I hated the way his eyes flickered from my cleavage to my long legs.

I slammed my locker. "Sorry, but I ve got better things to do." And I walked away, not bothering to look back.

Isabel was the only one that rejected me after that. I wasn't hopeful and peppy anymore. I spent forever being carefully made up and covered in that mask.

I could dress up and smile as brightly as I wanted, but underneath, I was still that rejected little girl, holding her head low and fighting tears.

I was never myself.


End file.
